Broken Chords and Unnamed Cries
by missing-in-venice
Summary: There's always been this... need between them. Elena thinks that if she gives into it, just once, then that just maybe they will both be set free. But she failed to think of the fact that her plans usually tend to fail./ One-shot/ Season Four AU/ D/E.


_broken chords and unnamed cries_

I find him in his room, and the sight of his back stops me dead in my tracks and I began to wonder again what the hell I'm doing here. Why I'm doing this, both to him and myself. Surely, there's got to be a better way to get past this.

I can't think of one.

So I swallows down my fear. By now, I know the taste of it all too well. It's spicy and gritty, with a bittersweet aftertaste. It begs to be let back up, wrapping around my insides tightly and crawling it's way up my throat. I start to desperately wish I could just let it take over, let it drive me out of this room and into the safe arms of my boyfriend where I can continue pretending that everything is alright.

But everything is not alright. Not when it comes to him. To us.

"What do you need, Elena?" His voice snaps me out of my own head, and I look up to see his back still turned to me while he rifles through a drawer, his underwear drawer. I really shouldn't know that, but I do anyways. Just like he knows which bra is my favorite because I keep it at the top and which ones I don't wear because they're too racy and are pushed underneath the plain, normal ones. Jesus.

When my voice inevitably fails me, he turns around to look and I really wish he wouldn't have done that. While his eyes roam up and down my figure, taking in my long trench coat and how my legs come out bare where it ends even though it must be thirty degrees out, those icy orbs take on a knowing glint and the fear slams back into me full throttle. Because he knows already what I'm here for.

"Where'd you get the jacket? It's nice." He notes casually as he turns back around to shut his drawer, pulling out a bottle of amber liquid before he does so, because he's _Damon _and of course he keeps alcohol in his underwear drawer.

I look down at myself like I forgot what I'm wearing. Not likely. "I think it was my dad's. I remember him wearing it for Halloween one year when he dressed up like Sherlock Holmes." He had tried to, anyways. But he had really just ended up looking like a stereotypical detective with his long pipe and monocle while mom had looked perfect as the evil queen from _Snow White. _I remember skinning my knee and tearing the pink tights that went with my ballerina costume while trick or treating, and my mom carrying me home. It must have been weird to see an evil queen carrying a crying little girl, I think.

"Hmm." Damon replies while he pours a drink and I shake the thoughts away, because this really isn't the time to start thinking of my parents. Instead, I study Damon and my eyes are drawn to the few unbuttoned buttons on his Henley, like he was too lazy to button them. On anyone else, it would probably be ridiculous. But on him, it makes sense. I've come to realize that when it comes to Damon, a lot of things make sense.

For a few moments, we're both quiet as he sips his drink when I realize I'm still standing in his doorway. And I know I've got to be the one to start this, because I'm here in his room and for once, it's not the other way around. So I swallow my nerves and let my bare feet touch the hardwood floor inside his room.

"Listen, Damon-" I really should have thought of what to say before, because now, I have no idea how to put this in a decent way that doesn't sound fucked up and selfish, even though that's exactly what it is. _I need to have sex with you so that I can have sex with your brother without thinking of you- _No. _I need you to fuck me so that it drives every thought of you out of my head- _No, that won't work either.

Instead, my hands move up manually until they're untying the belt on the coat, and I don't think I've ever been more scared in my life. Not at the sacrifice, or on Senior Prank night, or even when I had to make that dreaded choice the night I died. Because I'm Elena Gilbert, and I don't do stuff like this. And Damon looks like he knows it, too, because he's watching me doubtfully while I suck it up and push the coat off my shoulders.

The tiny, lacy scrap of material isn't mine. I'm pretty sure I've never owned a piece of negligee and never will. No, it's Caroline's. I had gone over to her house this morning with every intention of raiding the back of her closet even though I made up some excuse about wanting to have a few hours of normalcy with my best friend. And I had almost felt bad, because she had looked _so _happy for a minute, and I swallowed down my shame while excusing myself to the bathroom and tiptoed into the tiny, darkest part of the walk-in closet.

Now, all I can hope is that Damon doesn't recognize it from his short time with Caroline. It's an off white color, the lace going down to about mid thigh and leaving very little to imagination. There's a silky ribbon wrapped around the bodice that's tied in the back, and I think that the bow probably came slightly undone because I couldn't reach it very well and I wasn't about to ask Stefan to tie it for me.

I only manage to stare at his feet while I walk uncertainly towards him to where he's sitting in the armchair by the window. His eyes are burning into me, searing every part of my body that they touch. Suddenly, there's no more distance between us and I'm close, too close. I can smell leather and smoke and bourbon, always a tell tale sign that one of us needs to back away before something happens.

When my hands come to rest on his shoulders, he finally speaks. "Elena." He sounds angry now, and confused, and his hands come up to grip my wrists. "What are you doing? We can't."

"I know." I reply, because wasn't I saying that not too long ago? "But we have to. It's the only way to get past all this."

"Get past what?" He asks, and I know he's narrowing his eyes even though I still haven't managed the courage to look at him yet. "You mean get past me?"

His words stop me dead, because they're so true. That's what I'm here for, to get him out of my system so that I can live my happily ever after. And I've never given much thought to where it would leave him, although now I am, and it leaves a sickening taste in my mouth.

He pushes me back, and it takes me by surprise so I stumble back instantly and almost fall on the floor. He looks like he wants to be sorry, but the anger rules it out. "Elena, you can't _do this. _It's not going to solve _anything _between us and you know it."

I do know it, know that it won't do anything but cause more heartache and tragedy then we already have. But this has always been shoved between us, this... need. And I've known it since the first time my traitor eyes were drawn down to his lips. The whole damn town knows it. So maybe if it's not there anymore, things will get easier.

I don't want to think of the fact that my plans, usually (_always),_ tend to fail.

"Damon, I need this. You need it. If we both stop _needing _it then maybe we can both move on." I blurt out, finally gaining the courage to look him in the eye as I say it, and almost immediately regret it. He's always had the power to break me down, and his eyes are so guarded that I see extent of what I'm doing to him.

"So _you _can move on, right?" He asks, and when I automatically start to shake my head, he goes on. "Don't act like you want me to move on, Elena. You'd be perfectly happy if I stayed in this shitty town forever to pine away at you."

"No." My voice cracks. He's right. I still don't know what I'd do if he weren't here.

"No." He replies, and there's the answer. He said no. While he turns to swallow the rest of his drink, I can't help but feel disgustingly exposed. Of course he'd say no. He doesn't need me for sex, he's got the whole female population on speed dial for it, and I'm just plain old Elena Gilbert. Although I know it's irrational, tears burn in my eyes as I clumsily hurry to pick up my jacket, rejection coloring my cheeks.

"Elena, don't do that." He sighs when he sees me crying, and I hurry to scrub the tears away. I shove the coat up my shoulders and turn to leave, but then he's standing in front of me. "You know it's not like that."

"Isn't it?" I ask, trying to maneuver around him. "Why don't you just go out and pick up some random girl and I'll go back to Stefan and we can just forget this happened like we always do-"

"I'll never forget this. Not ever." He interrupts, and presses his forehead to mine. His hands caress my shoulders, "I'll never forget _this." _He continues and moves his hands down so that they're wrapped around my waist as he plays with the edge of the dress. I can feel his skin burning through the thin material, and a different kind of blush covers my skin. I suddenly remember why I'm here. Because this never happens, not with Stefan. And if it does, I open my eyes and see Damon hovering over me instead. This is why I'm here.

While I cover his hands with mine, I know he's going to give in. When his lips meet mine, he does.

* * *

The week after is filled with flashbacks and guilt every time I look Stefan in the eye. But there's no Damon. At first, I thought he just needed some time, so I left it alone. But when his absence hits the two week mark, I start to get worried. I've been expecting to see him at the Grill, drinking his fill or at least lurking around the boarding house, half naked. But when none of that happens, I set out to find him.

Because it didn't work, just like we both knew it wouldn't. And sometimes I've wondered if I just made it up so I could have an excuse to finally give in to what I've denied myself for so long. Nothing changed, not really. I still have to struggle to enjoy myself when I'm with Stefan and my mind always finds it's way back to Damon. Except now, it's far worse because I can't stop thinking about his eyes hovering over me and our struggled breaths mixing together and his hands on me and his length throbbing inside me. It was just like everyone talks about in movies and books, time-stopping and magical. And I still can't have sex with Stefan because I'm afraid I'll just be disappointed afterwards. This whole thing is just a disaster.

So I broke up with him. I broke up with him, told him that I wasn't the same person I used to be, that being a vampire changed me and that I wanted different things. "You mean Damon?" He had instantly replied. I didn't answer, and eventually he left. I know I'll have to fix things between us eventually, but right now, I just want to find Damon.

Days and eventually weeks go by by the time I find him. Sheriff Forbes was a huge help, and I have to remind myself to buy her a present or something to show how thankful I am. Damon's license plate was tracked down to about forty miles from Mystic Falls, his car parked in an foreclosed home in the middle of a desolate field. So I spend extra time that morning; straightening my hair until it hangs down in gleaming locks, being extra careful with the mascara brush so that my eyelashes reached to the top of my eyebrows and finally putting on a casual black dress that I haven't had a reason to wear until now.

My belly is doing flip flops the whole drive and when I finally pull into the gravel driveway and spot the familiar blue car parked there, I can hardly breathe. I force myself out of the car and try to close the door softly, not wanting him to hear my arrival.

After what seems like hours, I'm finally on the wooden porch and taking the deep breaths that I learned in the yoga class Caroline had dragged me to. I can't help but think that maybe he won't want me, that maybe he found someone else and decided to wash his hands clean of everything in Mystic Falls. I mean, it _is _Damon after all. What if he-

My thoughts are interrupted when the screen door suddenly flies open, and then there he is. Blue jeans, white shirt, and the sight makes my eyes burn. I let my eyes wander up and down him, drinking in what I've been denied for months. His hair messy and tousled, like he just woke up and his jaw is dusted with stubble. His eyes are bright and surprised, and are also looking me up and down, just in the same way I was.

Then, our eyes meet, and he sees everything. The regret, the longing, the hope. I see them mirrored in his own. He holds his hand out, an offering. I take it and he pulls me inside.

_fin_

**_A/N: I wrote this awhile ago and found it in my computer, so I figured I mind as well post it. This was supposed to be set sometime in an AU season 4, so there's no real plot line to it. Anyways, hope you enjoyed this quick read and it'd be awesome if you dropped off a review! :)_**


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